


Only love, could heal our brokenness

by onebatch2batch



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompts, starting a new collection of tumblr vignettes now that the other hit 50!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: “And in the end, we were all just humans… Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”— F. Scott FitzgeraldKastle Tumblr Prompts/Vignettes #2





	1. Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> anon prompted: “I’ve missed you” kiss

Two weeks away from Frank is a long, long time. 

Karen paces the length of the living room and strains her ears for the familiar sound of heavy boots outside the door. She’s been imagining them all day, running to the door and throwing it open only to find an empty hallway. Frank has been off doing some recon on a new gang that has sprouted off from the old Kitchen Irish and she _knows_ he’s safe from the constant string of texts and calls, but she’s still anxious to see him. Still anxious to put her own hands on him, make sure he’s not hurt. 

As Karen waits, she think about what two weeks means. In that time, she’s written dozens of articles; she’s interviewed countless people; and drank her own weight in coffee. She’s slept alone in her ( _their_ ) bed for fourteen nights, and has crossed off each day on the calendar with painstaking care. 

A year ago–or maybe even six months ago–two weeks would have been nothing. Karen would have been shocked after seeing him after only two weeks. She would have been suspicious, anxious to know what kind of trouble he’d gotten into to seek her out. 

Now, she trails into the bedroom and remakes the bed, if only to keep herself busy. Two weeks is plenty long enough–and she’s starting to let her mind get the better of her. As she fluffs her pillow, there’s a noise from the other room. The sound of keys in the lock. Karen hurries out just in time to see the door swing open. 

Frank’s eyes meet hers immediately, and Karen is endlessly thankful that he doesn’t look the slightest bit injured. 

“Frank,” she breathes, relief filling her from head to toe. “You’re home.”

Frank steps inside and shuts the door. His bag hits the floor and he gives her an easy smile. “Miss me?”

Karen doesn’t answer. She runs across the room and throws herself into his arms. When she kisses his cheek, the stubble prickles at her in an achingly familiar way. She presses her lips to his cheeks, nose, temple, and then finally kisses him until they’re both breathing hard. 

“Shit,” Frank says when she pulls away. “I oughta leave more often.”

“Don’t you dare, Frank Castle.” Karen yanks him down for another kiss. “Don’t you dare.”


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompted: ok but a fic where Franks been living with Karen in the AFTER, working construction and unconsciously kissing Karen goodbye one morning when he leaves for work?

Pete Castiglione has absolutely no credit. He’s been outfitted with new fingerprints, more than enough cash, and his freedom—but his credit is lackluster. When Frank goes to apply for an apartment out of the boroughs, he’s turned down almost immediately. It’s the first time in a long time he’s wanted a sense of safety, a sense of belonging, and he’s unable to achieve it due to forces beyond his control. The feeling leaves him stricken. Even now, after everything he’s been through, he can’t have his own home.    
  
“Come live with me,” Karen says over breakfast one day when he tells her about it. Her blue eyes are warm and bright. “I’ll put ‘Pete’ on the lease and you can build your credit up.”    
  
He can’t think of a reason to say no, so he does.    
  
—   
  
Living with Karen is nice, easy. He adamantly refuses the bed and makes himself a place on the couch. He’s slept on hard cots and desert sand for the majority of his life—a plush couch is heaven. It also means there’s no possibility of waking Karen up in the middle of the night with hard gasps and sweaty palms. She may have offered him a place to stay, but that doesn’t mean he wants to put her in a position to ask about the demons that find him at night.    
  
Their routine gives him a sense of normality he wasn’t expecting; she returns home to a warm meal, they talk about normal things like the weather and how work was, and then they lay in their respective beds and try hard not to think of the other breathing in the next room.    
  
His construction job wears him to the bone. It’s fulfilling work, work that makes his day go quickly. Normal work. His jeans and hard hat is a stark difference to Karen’s skirts and pressed blouses. (He’s always sure to be showered before she returns to the apartment—the least he could do is not dirty her place when she’s so graciously invited him to stay.)    
  
The mornings are better than the evenings. He’s most always awake before her, which gives him plenty of time to change and get the coffee started. Frank always fills her thermos before his and leaves it next to the pot, ready for her upon waking. The joyful little smile she’d given him the first time was enough to add it to the routine. Karen goes into work much later than he does, and so as Frank packs his lunch she will sit at the kitchen island and type away on her computer, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.    
  
Having Karen Page in her bathrobe not two feet away as he places a bologna sandwich in his lunch pail is a little surreal. Sometimes he has to pause and take a deep breath, steady himself to the onslaught of  _ what if’s _ that barrage him at the sight. Sometimes he’s so preoccupied with  _ not _ thinking of Karen that way, it’s hard not to slip up.    
  
It happens early one morning. Karen steps out of her bedroom with mussed hair and a sleepy smile. Her robe isn’t tied, and beneath she’s in striped pajama shorts and a tank top. Frank looks up upon her entrance and offers a tight smile, while the smallest part if his mind thinks  _ god she is gorgeou _ s. These thoughts have been more and more frequent as of late, and they’re coming more and more difficult to stamp out. This morning he watches from his peripherals as she steps towards the coffee maker and pucks up her thermos, drinking from it gratefully. Her laptop is already on the counter and she takes a seat across from him. It’s an older model, one that she complains about constantly, and as she waits for it to boot up he can feel her eyes on him.    
  
“Got somethin’ on my face?” He asks, glancing up.    
  
“Nope.” Karen turns back to her screen, and Frank frowns at her.    
  
“Uh-huh.”   
  
They fall into easy conversation after that, discussing dinner options and whose turn it is to pick up the groceries. Karen is just giving him a run down of her schedule for the day when he realizes that he’s been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes, and now he’s late.    
  
Frank curses and stomps on his boots, hurrying around to gather his things. His mental checklist gets shorter as he goes: lunch pail, jacket, protective eyewear, phone, keys. He’s just opening the door to leave when Karen calls his name.    
  
“Hey, your coffee!” She says, jogging over with his thermos in her hands. She holds it out and Frank, before he realizes what he’s doing, he leans down to take it—and in the same breath brushes his lips over hers in goodbye.    
  
It’s not until he’s stepped through the door that he realizes what he’s done. Frank stiffens and turns to look at Karen slowly. She stands in the doorway with her fingers on her lips and a shocked expression on her face. Frank shifts uncomfortably, wanting nothing more to stay and explain himself, tell her it was a mistake and that he’s sorry, that he wont take her kindness for granted and that it was a slip of the mind. A habit he thought he’d long forgotten. Before he can, Karen holds out a hand and starts to laugh.    
  
“Frank Castle,” she says fondly. “You goddamn tease.”    
  
Of all the things she could have said, that one leaves him dumbstruck. For a moment, all he can do is stare wordlessly.    
  
Karen grins. “We’ll talk about it when you get home. Have a good day at work.”    
  
The door closes in his face with a soft click and Frank starts off down the hall, unable to help his own smile. There’s an intense, warm feeling sprouting in his chest that makes everything seem much lighter. He descends the stairs with one thought in his mind: he can’t wait to be  _ Home _ .

  
  



End file.
